


Privilege

by kuchi



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pining, There Is Only One Bed!, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 13:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20192911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuchi/pseuds/kuchi
Summary: Ichabod, Abbie, and a few quiet moments of lull in the middle of a mission.





	Privilege

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).

> @outruntheavalanche here is my piece for you, I hope you like it! Your tags were great and eerily close to my own Ichabbie request lol. Initially I was going to take this fic further and actually explore the undercover as lovers stuff, but by the time I got to it I ran out of time a bit with some IRL stress so this came out simpler and flufflier. And with bed-sharing. I hope you enjoy it regardless :)

"You were not happy with the outcome of our mission tonight."

Ichabod waited for a response. The Lieutenant was walking a few paces in front of him, and she did not turn back to acknowledge the statement.

"Awesome deductive skills, Crane," she said blithely. She had to be making a concerted effort to walk ahead of him, the combined effect of her shorter strides and the formidable heeled shoes she was wearing this evening gave that much away.

"Is something the matter, Lieutenant?"

She stopped. Ichabod almost walked into her. Her shoulders were held high and stiff (higher and stiffer than normal) and he found that he could not read their meaning. Only in the absence of such an ability did he realise he had been able to decipher her mood by her posture for months now.

"You _are _angry with me." It was an observation.

"It's..it's not-" she started. Then she shook her head viciously, one, twice. "I just can't deal with you right now."

It was well into the early hours of the morning. Ichabod was weary, in more ways than the physical. Their current mission involved deciphering the activities of a witch whose modus operandi was sucking out the life energy of new lovers. It must be something pertaining to the amorous glow of newly joined souls. As such, the creature targeted newlyweds at couples retreats. As such, the two of them tonight were Mr. and Mrs. Donovan from Tarrytown, celebrating their recent union at the nearby Atlantis Resort, incidentally the site of two deaths and three instances of an unidentified sickness.

"Please tell me how I've aggrieved you."

"You _paraded_ me in front of all the guests. In front of Daniel." There was that godforsaken detail, too - an open murder case with several police detectives listening in with their… listening... devices.

Ichabod could not help the dumb surprise that must have crossed his face. He regretted it immediately. How was he to know this was on the Lieutenant's mind?

Yet something in her temper seemed to soften at his visage. "You don't know," she sighed, turning to face him. "Look- when- in the 21st century, when you gush like that about a woman, it comes off pretty intense. He probably thought we actually _were_ in a serious relationship."

"You do not take our relationship seriously?"

At this, her lip quirked up into the most minute of smiles. Ichabod attempted to hide his pleasure at having achieved the desired effect. She shook her head. "You know what I meant. It was just weird. It's okay. It's been a long day." She nudged him amiably on the arm, but did not fall into step.

Ichabod had to admit that he did not see how this was an issue. Still, the Lieutenant clearly considered it as such. "Forgive me. I was not aware when we agreed to personate these roles how much talking it would entail. Everything I have mentioned is true, and to voice them I simply took advantage of the privilege of being your… side piece for the night."

Abbie snorted. "For the last time, that is _not_ what 'side piece' means, Crane."

"Well I am by steadfastly by your side, am I not?"

She caught on to his charade, rolling her eyes. Ichabod smiled coyly, feeling grateful she had not caught onto the meaning of the rest of his words; he could not explain himself in that regard.

"If I may present a personal enquiry… is it possible you are still enamoured with this Daniel?"

Abbie snorted again and made a vague gesture of a shrug. "I used to like him, he still likes me." She laughed again as she wobbled up the final steps of the landing up to their third floor suite. "I dunno anymore, really."

Somehow Ichabod did not think this was a terrible development.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a most troubling sight as they stepped through the door. Abbie sighed. "Forgot. There's only one bed."

"I will sleep on the floor," he said immediately, not wishing to cause her any more discomfort this evening. The notion was alarming, even without the aching impropriety of the feelings that had grown in his heart, to sleep next to an unmarried woman was in itself improper. He had not even shared a night with Katrina until after their wedding, let alone a bed.

Abbie gave him a doubtful look after examining the admittedly scant patches of floor surrounding the roomy, king-sized bed. "You couldn't even fit one leg in that gap. Come on."

Half an hour later, Ichabod was staring at the ceiling. Very decidedly. An air of distress emanated from his friend next to him, even more than did the heat of her body. His transgression was not the only thing on her mind.

"If you decide that you do really desire it," he said, after deliberation. "I think you have more than a good chance with Daniel."

"What makes you say that?"

"I have reason to be certain that someone like you is not forgotten easily once they have captured one's heart." He turned to look directly at her.

Abbie was grinning. The lamplight was so dim that it reminded him of candlelight, enclosed her now familiar vigour in even more familiar surroundings. "I see why Betsy was charmed by you, Crane. You're quite a wordsmith. A _player_, even."

She looked at him with mischief glittering in her eyes. Ichabod ached in his very bones. He would have to be a dead man then to resist returning her smile, even if he was puzzled about what any of this had to do with sporting activities. After a moment, they both turned back to gaze at the ceiling and she switched off the light.

The room was pitch black. He sensed nothing, with the exception of Abbie's breathing and when he shifted, the excessive bounce of the mattress below him.

Ichabod found himself at peace. There were not so many moments such as this these days, not for either of them. He would be lying if he did not admit to the strain he was under, that they both were under. When Abbie returned from the Sheriff's Department each night there were bags growing under her eyes. Ichabod's own insomnia was a persistent plague, reinvigorated with each harbinger of the apocalypse they faced, and each gruesome secret of the past unveiled.

And here they were, playing married. Averting the end of days came with its surprises.

The sound of Abbie's voice, tired but luminous in the overwhelming silence, broke him out of his thoughts. "You ever wonder why we were chosen? Me and you, specifically."

"No, but I thank God," he said plainly.

"That you can be my side piece?" The virulent sarcasm in her voice was one he was frequently graced with, impossible to suppress.

"Yes. And what of it?" Two could play at this game.

They were silent in their smiles for long moments. For the first time in a long time, Ichabod felt a wave of somnolence overtake him, minute by minute. Perhaps it was the presence of Abbie that allowed him to rest. He surmised that she must have fallen asleep, until he felt a hand grab his wrist.

"What did you mean, anyway? Earlier. What privilege?"

"I simply meant that the situation called for the expression of an affection for you that I do not commonly have the chance to express…"

He swallowed and then unwittingly, held his breath. This was suddenly beyond the realm of jokes. Perhaps she would interpret his comment as another of his cultural differences, or one made deliberately in jest, or...

She stared at him unblinkingly. Silence.

It seemed to him that Abbie did not breathe either.

"...that I have long held."

Her eyes became almost comically wide but her expression was unreadable, uneasy, stung with something. This was it. He had overstepped his boundaries. In an attempt to salvage the situation, he implored, "Abbie, I did not mean to suggest you-"

In the gap of a second she leant up and closed the distance between them. Even before he could acknowledge what her intentions were, she was kissing him, and he was kissing her back.

She parted from him with a sigh, exalted, and said, "Sorry. That was impulsive." It had to be acknowledged she did not look one bit sorry.

Ichabod did not, could not, think straight. He told her as much.

"I thought you were a wordsmith," she said, laughing.

Ichabod decided he could not take kindly to such impudence, not even with his heart thundering. He had no choice but to kiss the wretched demeanour off her. 


End file.
